Supposed To
by aranenumenesse
Summary: I was supposed to take care of you... Rogan.


Pained grunt echoes from the walls, followed by a wet sound of tearing flesh and splatter of liquid. He shifts, deep in the twisted dreamscape, soaked sheets tangling around his straining torso as he keeps fighting.

Woman is laughing. There's not enough air. He breathes through red fog that is forming inside of his lungs, thick, sticky mist that is pooling from the broken vessels. Woman laughs again, sick little giggle, before she plunges her claws through his ribcage again. She's too fast, too clingy. No matter how hard he tries, he can't shake her off from his back.

He screams and forces his legs to cooperate. Stumbles backwards, gathering momentum and crushes woman between the wall and his body, trying to force the air out of her. Move forces her claws even deeper inside of him, and he notices with disgust their tips coming through his chest. Pierced all the way through with ten adamantium needles. He slouches forward and it surprises his opponent, giving him a moment to untangle from her and turn face-to-face with the bitch and unsheathe his own claws. Woman smiles and licks her lips when he throws a brutal swipe at her, slicing open her stomach. Then she easily avoids him when he tries clumsily to chop off her hands. He has lost too much blood already. He's too tired. He staggers and leans his back against the wall, trying to defend himself from her. Every now and then he manages to fend off her jabs and kicks, but more often she succeeds bringing them in.

"Logan?"

Familiar voice is calling him. To his utter horror he realizes that he's not alone. Not the only one who wandered off from the safety of the group.

"Logan?"

Marie. She's somewhere close. His opponent smirks and tilts her head from the sound of Marie's voice. Suddenly she lunges forward, jabbing the index finger of her right hand under his jaw and extending the claw slowly, until it's scraping the bottom of his skull. He can taste the blood in the bottom of his throat. Claw piercing his flesh feels burning hot and icy cold at the same time. He can't feel his legs anymore. She has severed important nerves. The claw is scraping and gouging. She's trying to find a hole from his skull. It doesn't even have to be big. Just big enough to slide the claw in and she can scramble his brain.

"Logan!"

"Get out of here, kid…"

He tries to shout, but he isn't sure if anything came out of his mouth. He can't hear even his own thoughts anymore over the sickening screeching of adamantium. Woman is panting now, extending more claws, all of them gouging, tearing and scraping, turning his throat and the bottom of his skull to minced meat.

"Logan!"

"Where is it?"

Woman is hissing and wheezing, searching desperately for something. Suddenly it clicks and Logan forces a twisted smile to his face. Stryker controls this bitch with fluid he drains from another mutant. There's a straight line from the back of her neck to her brain, a small shunt. When he was around here last time, they didn't have that kind of fancy technology. His skull is seamless.

"Won't find it…"

He manages to gurgle, but he isn't sure if she even registers his words. Nevertheless she screeches from frustration and shoves him away, snorting with disgust.

"I'll just have to find some other way to get rid of you…"

He lifts his gaze just in time to see her approaching, carrying a gigantic syringe attached to a hose. He can smell hot metal. Woman is smirking. Sick little smile before she screams and lifts the syringe above her head, preparing to puncture him with it.

"Logan!"

Several things happen simultaneously. Needle pierces his ribcage and he can hear the sound of the machine, gurgling and slurping when it starts to pump liquid adamantium from a bubbling vat. He can feel first dribbles of the scorching hot substance in his lungs. Small hand lands on his shoulder. Somebody slaps his cheek, hard. He sits up, gagging and spluttering, trying to draw air through his cramped windpipe.

"Logan? It was just a nightmare. You're okay…" Marie is whispering, smoothing sweat slicked hair back from his forehead. She just doesn't get it. It's not fucking okay. It'll never be okay as long as he keeps seeing this fucked up version of the outcome of that battle.

"It's okay… It's okay…" She keeps whispering when he draws shuddering gulps of air, trying to assure his body from the fact that it really is intact and functional.

"Let go." As good as her hands usually feel, this is one of those moments her touch is more of a hindrance than relief. He needs room. He needs free space around him, as much as possible. He can see it hurts Marie. He doesn't have enough energy to care. He needs everything for himself right now.

"Go away." It hurts her even more. He's aware of it, can smell it from her scent and see it from the hunched position of her shoulders when she leaves the room and closes the door after her. She should know better than to come to him in nights like this. They have been through this drill dozens of times already, almost every night after Alkali Lake. One of these nights he will be too far gone to tell the difference between a friend and a foe. Too far gone to stop claws extending. And as much as he would like to think in the light of the day, that he would just heal her, in the darkness he knows there's no way he could bring himself to touch her again.

Twice he has done it, given a piece of his life, his personality and memories along energy needed to repair damage done to her body. Twice. Second touch nearly killed him, and brought forth sudden realization. Third would do him in. And as much as he loathes the life he's living, he's not ready to let go.

"And stay the fuck away from me, you freak!" He clamps hand over his mouth, but it's late. Damage's already done. He knows he shouted loud enough for her to hear it. For a moment he hesitates, one foot slung over the edge of the bed. He could go to her and apologize. Decides to stay in the bed instead. He has never lied to her before, and he's not about to start it now.

He lies to people on daily basis. Puts on the mask of normalcy with his clothes as soon he gets up. Carries it around, smiles to children, keeps a neutral face in front of teachers and team members. Keeps the constant fear and yearning for blood hidden. Pulling punches, swallowing insults and taking blows.

He knows she sees right through his disguises. With her it's useless to pretend. He hates it. All his insecurities, fears and phobias that he manages to hide from people are plain as day for her, and it shows on her behavior. Skittish, guarding her every step around him, hovering like a fucking mother hen, trying to shelter him from the world when in all fairness it should have been the other way around.

"I was supposed to take care of you…"


End file.
